Just a Distraction
by LostPrison
Summary: Maybe Alex was obsessed with the tattoos. Maybe he was obsessed with that smile. Or maybe he was just obsessed with the persona. The bravery and intelligence that defined Michael...that made him untouchable. Warning: Mentions of drug use
1. Chapter 1

Hello, fellow fanfictioners! This is not only my first Prison Break story, but it's my first slash story. I'm a little nervous, but I really tried to make this as in character as possible while still twisting it to my Michael/Mahone needs. I adore them right now, and I really hope you all enjoy what I have so far! Let me know what you think!

**Spoilers**: Up to and including the season opener of season 3. Story is set in Sona. Still includes Alex's withdrawal among other things, but it doesn't follow the main plot that was introduced.

**Disclaimer**: I only own the story, not Prison Break or its characters. Which breaks my poor little soul.

"Pick it up."

Alexander Mahone lifted his eyes up at the towering prisoner above him. His dirty wife-beater met the top of his naval, revealing an ink-covered stomach to match his arms and neck. His greasy, sandpaper-colored hair was messily thrown back in a ponytail, and his greasy, chocolate-colored mustache swallowed half of his upper lip. In between this angry giant and Alex lie a pile of brown slop, otherwise labeled as food.

Just days ago, Alex had arrived in this Panamanian version of hell on Earth. Just minutes ago, he found himself desperately clinging to the wall beside him, grasping for support so his knees didn't buckle. An overwhelming pressure of heat pounded down on him; his jet-black t-shirt soaking up the sun's blazing rays. He was out of pills and out of contact with his dealer, which presented Alex with two options: End his miserable excuse of a life (which he often contemplated in the screaming silence of night, doing so even before entering Sona) or withstand this sudden and painful detox.

Finally, just seconds ago, this man who appeared to be vying for number one place in the sloppiest-prisoner-at-Sona competition found himself colliding with Alex's beaten-down torso. Alex barely had time to react as the man grabbed Alex's sweat-induced shirt and yanked him forward.

"That was my only meal for the rest of the day. Pick it up." Alex struggled to meet the prisoner's eyes as the setting sun glared down at them.

"You bumped into me. I don't want any trouble." Alex found himself speaking with even more precision than normal. He wasn't in any state or mood to fight, but he most certainly wasn't going to end up like Bellick, either. Wearing tight, ragged clothes that clung to his body. Scavenging for food in the most questionable of corners.

"Well trouble is what you got now, punk. But if you ain't gonna pick my grub up - " his eyes traveled down the length of Alex's body, "- then I'm sure we can find some other way for you to repay me."

Alex wiped the drops of sweat off his forehead before pushing away from the prisoner and grabbing him by the neck. In an instant, the man's face hovered over the pile of shit – sorry, food – and his body lagged behind as Alex kept his right hand at the base of the man's neck and the other hand pressed down on the small of his back. With a twitch and a deep breath, Alex channeled the former Company assassin inside himself. Calm, but eerily disquieting.

"Let's discuss other means of settling this dispute. I force this pile of waste down your throat and watch as you choke on it -" the man writhed against Alex's hold, causing Alex to shove his face into the food. Alex leaned in close to the man's ear as a dangerously low tone replaced his neutral one, "- or you can back the hell off and leave me alone."

As the prisoner opened his glop-covered mouth, defiance and ignorance shining in his eyes, Alex readied himself to beat the guy to a bloody pulp. His body may be worn, but the constant fight inside him was ever-lingering. Just as Alex lifted his arm to throw a punch, something on the opposite end of the courtyard caught his eye. _Someone_.

Michael Scofield.

Alex took everything about his former (and present?) nemesis in as his undivided attention strayed from the man struggling beneath him. Michael's long-sleeve, faded gray shirt hung loosely over his tattered jeans. His face and body were noticeably drenched in sweat. His eyebrows slightly scrunched as his striking blue eyes met Alex's. Power and purity radiated from Michael's being. His stance was short of intimidating, and his delicately flushed lips contradicted the scowl he consistently strived for. But something about him – something about Michael Scofield – reached into Alex and pulled him away from the man he was holding down. Something about Michael stripped Alex of the nagging violent temptations that previously enveloped him...and he didn't know what to do about it.

Alex raked both hands through his messy brown hair and threw a disgusted look to the prisoner on the ground before offering a vague yet honest threat.

"Next time will end badly for you." With that, Alex found himself stumbling over to where Michael had just been standing, only to be greeted by T-Bag.

"Well hello there, Agent Mahone. All this heat gettin' to ya? You look worse than I did the day I failed to recite one of the synonyms to the word 'rabid'." T-Bag's heavy southern accent made each word he said sound longer and more deliberate. His snake-like tongue darted out as he eyed the former FBI agent in front of him.

"I was eleven years old and it was blisterin' hot and my daddy forced me to wear two sweatshirts and sleep underneath three comforters. Now you can only imagine what my little body looked like afterward. Of course, my daddy wasn't in the mood for his usual method of punishment so perhaps that night wasn't so bad after all." A slow smile crept on his face as he stepped forward. Alex shifted uncomfortably and turned his back to T-Bag. His mouth gave a small twitch as he advanced toward his cell.

"The word was 'obsessed', if you were wonderin'," Alex heard T-Bag sedately hiss. Alex winced as he continued across the courtyard.

As Alex sunk down into his depleted mattress, he pressed his face into shaky hands. A long sigh elicited from his mouth as thoughts about Sona stampeded his brain. Slowly and surely, his days would consist of the rotten stench that drained this place of its lacking but still-present humanity. Of bored prisoners looking for a fight, failing to overpower him until the day his body gives out. Of the never-ending craving for his drug shouting endlessly until his mind shuts down and his body crashes. Alex needed something, anything, to distract him from his thoughts. To keep him from giving in to the irresistible option of suicide.

After hours of speculation and debate, T-Bag's earlier utterance of 'obsessed' fogged his brain. Maybe Alex was obsessed with the tattoos. They had been, after all, the guiding light that led him straight to his prey. Maybe he was obsessed with that smile. The tight, yet beautiful-when-really-observed smile that took Alex's breath away. Or maybe he was just obsessed with the persona. The bravery and intelligence that defined Michael...that made him untouchable. No Company hit man or filthy prisoner could ever be a match for him. He always won in the end...even against Alex.

With a sigh, Alex tugged at his last drop of remaining energy and lifted himself up. His muscles protested as he uncertainly dragged himself toward Michael's cell.


	2. Chapter 2

Michael winced as the odors of sweat and urine filled his nostrils. He sighed tiredly as he rose from his mattress and stretched his stiff limbs. Over the span of days he's endured Sona, he guessed that the total number of hours he's actually slept amounted to less than six. As he closed his eyes and rested his head against the unforgiving coldness of his cell wall, thoughts of Alex surfaced. Michael undeniably reserved a certain hatred for the guy. He ruthlessly hunted Michael down, leaving a path of bodies in his wake, and nearly destroyed everything Michael gave his life for. He killed Michael's father. Abandonment issues or not, his father's attempt at redemption by helping his sons resulted in his death. That blood could never be scrubbed off Michael's conscience...but it could never be scrubbed off Alex's hands. And Michael could never forget that.

Still, there was something about the encounters Michael has with him that sparks an unusual interest. Earlier, when Alex caught him staring...something happened. Something that made Alex refrain from fighting the prisoner he had in his grasp. Something that lit the lights inside of them, and dimmed their surroundings to a pale nothingness. Something...

Michael shook those thoughts away as he felt another presence amid his cell. He quickly opened his eyes to discover a set of blue eyes inches from his own. The eyes were old, tired; but breathtaking, nonetheless.

"What do you want, Alex?" Michael quietly breathed out. Alex inched closer so that Michael's breath reached his neck. He gave a crooked smile and set his sight on the ground beneath him.

"I, uh, I couldn't sleep." He cleared his throat nervously before slowly gazing his way up Michael's body, resettling on his eyes. More firmly this time, he added, "Noticing how tense you've been and the dark circles under your eyes, I assumed you've been having trouble sleeping, as well. I assumed correctly, it appears."

"Again, what do you want, Alex?" Alex allowed himself to indulge in the close proximity of Michael's being for a few more seconds before taking a step back. He ran a hand over his mouth and twitched before reaching for the bed behind him for support.

"I need my drugs, Michael," he barked out before calming his voice. "I need them but I don't have them. I've reached a point where I can barely stand on my own and I can't form thoughts that don't consist of killing myself or everyone around me. I'm going through withdrawal and I need...a distraction."

A heavy silence clouded over the atmosphere as Michael stared intently back at Alex. The underlying proposition in Alex's words was subtle but there. "What exactly are you getting at?"

"It's no secret that we don't see eye to eye, Michael. I'm in this hell because of you -"

"You're in this hell because you deserve to be," Michael spat out. Alex bit his tongue and threw a glare in Michael's direction.

"We don't like each other and I'm perfectly content with that. But you're the only one in here who can give me what I need."

Michael squinted his eyes uncertainly. "What about T-Bag? He jumps at anything that moves. If I understand what you're proposing, which I know I do, then I'm sure he'd be more than willing to ablige."

Alex found himself torn between laughing and scowling at Michael's suggestion. He settled on pushing himself away from the bed and all but pressing his chest against Michael's.

"The day I allow Bagwell to touch me is the day hell freezes over. Let me clarify, you're the only one in here who I _want_ to give me this distraction. Your intellect is, as it has always been, intriguing to me. You're cunning and sharp, and you can handle yourself. And -" he skimmed Michael's body as a small growl arose from the back of his throat, "- you're not physically repulsive, either." Repulsive was anything _but_ Michael Scofield, but Alex wasn't going to admit that.

Michael felt himself unable to breathe as he felt Alex's eyes on him. Michael's earlier thoughts of Alex quickly reappeared as he considered what this meant. Every piece of logic and reason inside his brain screamed at him to reject Alex's proposal. But Michael's body, his heart, reacted to Alex in a way he never thought possible. In way he used to react to Sara...only much more powerful, more aggressive. That scared the living shit out of him.

"No." Michael tried leaving the wall his back was pressed up against, but Alex blocked his attempt and placed both arms on either side of Michael's head, trapping him.

"No?"

Michael gulped as an influx of sweat drizzled down his face. "I'm not interested in men. And I'm sure as hell not interested in you." Well, that was partly true. Michael's relationship experience was solely based around women. Up until this point, any thoughts of romance surrounded Sara. Not that Michael knew where he stood with her anymore or what feelings he still had for her. He loved her, but at this very second, he could focus on nothing but the thought of ravishing Alex's body.

"I'm not a gay pervert looking to jump any male body I set sight on, Michael. And I'm not a schoolgirl with a crush on the structural engineer who escaped prison only to be thrown back into another one." Alex's eyes threw daggers at Michael.

Michael took a moment to contemplate. The last thing he wanted was to give Alex any sign of agreement. "The answer is no, Alex."

Alex masked a face impossible to read as he pushed his arms off the wall. He lips gave a small twitch before he moved towards the cell opening. "Let me know if you change your mind. You know where I'll be."

Michael knew Alex hated him just as much as he hated Alex. But the little details Alex thought he hid from the mindful eye suggested otherwise. The way his shoulders momentarily hunched up and tensed as Michael rejected him with finality, like his body had been somehow made itself comfortable being that close to Michael's. The way his eyes shifted to a darker shade as he pushed himself away, like there was real sorrow behind the mask he often wore. The way his words dripped off his tongue, like they were drowning in disappointment.

Michael could only focus on those details for so long, though. He couldn't help but angrily collide his fist with the cell wall as he thought about how close he had been to saying yes. To offering himself up to a cold-blooded murderer who would likely kill Michael if given the right opportunity. At least, that's what he told himself. The reality behind his anger was something he couldn't yet come to terms with. The reality was that his thoughts about Sara had been slowly fading away the more often he thought about Alex. The reality was that he yearned for something that could never happen. The reality was that he wanted Alex.

**Author's Note: **I know nothing's actually happened between Alex and Michael yet, but I'm trying to build up to it and make it more believable. So you could read all the hesitations Michael has and then once something finally does happen (which will be very soon!) you can look at it and maybe think, 'Hey, this actually could have happened' haha :) Also, I know I started out the story saying that it wouldn't follow the main plot introduced, but as I write more, I'm thinking I might go with more of the main plot than I thought I would. I'm really starting to like the idea of staying to true to it that it could have happened, had the writers noticed the undeniable chemistry between Wentworth and William ;)

And I appreciate the feedback I have gotten thus far! If you like the story, please review! It really helps motivate me and give me that boost I need :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note**: I just want to say thank you to all my reviewers! You have no idea how much impact those reviews have on me. I appreciate them so much! So thank you, and keep it going! :)

Another sleepless night in Sona was engraved in Michael's track record. If he kept this up, maybe Alex wouldn't be the first to self-destruct after all. Immediately after Alex had left last night, Michael felt a cold air replace the 100 degrees one inside his cell. He still felt as if he were bathing in his own sweat, though, so maybe it was just a coldness inside Michael. An emptiness that only went away when Alex was around. When Alex brushed his hand against Michael's. When their body warmth combined to create a nearly insufferable, yet oh-so-exotic heat between them.

At first, Michael's lack of sleep derived from the anxiety of his surroundings. From the constant fear that his throat could be slit or his back could be stabbed at any moment of the day. He knew that fear would always reside somewhere in the pit of his stomach, but the buzz of it had died down. The fear was no longer the issue. Michael hadn't gotten any sleep last night not because of Sona, but because of a certain man in Sona whom Michael desperately desired.

Chattering inmate voices and faint basketball dribbles could be heard as Michael rose from his bed. Muscles cracked and eyelids drooped in complaint as he slowly made his way toward the courtyard. Michael considered not bothering to get in line for his poor excuse of a breakfast at all, but he knew his body needed some form of food. Whether or not this could actually be seen as food was still up for debate.

As Michael took the food he was handed, his attention drifted up to the balcony. He all but dropped his plate as his eyes settled on a sickening sight. Alex's arm was extended horizontally so that his hand was weakly pressed against the wall. His other arm was wound tightly around his stomach and his head hung down to his chest. It looked as if he could pass out at any given moment.

Michael wasted no time as he hastily made his way to Alex. He gently grasped Alex's shoulder in an attempt to offer support, which resulted in Alex mistaking him for an offending prisoner. Alex's foot collided with Michael's shin as he sent Michael tumbling down. Without missing a beat, Alex's hands were firmly wrapped around Michael's neck as Alex straddled Michael's body. Alex released a venomous growl as he prepared to take a life.

"Al-x, i-t's m-e, Mi-ch-l," Michael choked out. Michael's body struggled against Alex's weight, but he's always known that, physically, Alex has the upper hand.

Alex's eyes were glazed over, as if his mind were somewhere else entirely. Michael's twisting and gasping seemed to anchor enough of Alex's thoughts, however, and Alex slowly loosened his hold around Michael's neck. As Michael slowly found his breath again, he felt a pair of hands adjust themselves on his chest. He looked up to find Alex's psyche replaced with a manneguin, more or less. Michael shook his shoulders and squirmed under his still body, but nothing was getting through to him.

"Alex? Alex! Get off me! Come on, Alex. Everything is alright, just snap out of it." His pleas were suddenly drowned out by a circle of shouting prisoners below them. Two stood in the center, a chicken foot between them representing the chaos.

Michael scrubbed his hands over his face. If he didn't do something now, his next twenty minutes would be spent under Alex's sweaty, lifeless frame. And when the fight was over, every man in Sona would take one look at the compromising position they were in and all hell would break loose. What really worried Michael, though, was the way he felt under Alex's hold. Their heat meshing together to create a powerful intoxication that Michael unwillingly embraced. Michael found himself leaning into Alex's body in ways he shouldn't be leaning, in places he felt pressure building...

Michael had to end this. Now.

Without wasting another second, Michael grabbed Alex by his hair and crushed their lips together. Alex's eyes widened as his stagnant state came to an abrupt stop. Alex's psyche had returned, which meant that Michael was free to pull away. But he didn't.

Alex moaned into the kiss as Michael opened his mouth to allow entrance. Michael tasted unlike anything Alex had ever dreamt of. Granted, his tongue was rather dry and the sweat on his lips made its way into the kiss. But Michael had a taste to him that was purely him. A taste that not even a hell like Sona could damage.

Michael deepened the kiss as he found himself entranced with Alex's lips. He couldn't get enough. Now that he's had a taste, he could _never_ get enough. Michael explored every single detail of Alex's mouth. Their tongues battled for dominance as the kiss was urgent; demanding. Hard.

It lasted for what felt like an eternity, but once it was over, it felt like it hadn't even started. Michael's swollen lips glistened in the sun as he, for the second time that day, found himself gasping for air. Alex steadied his breathing as he stared into Michael's eyes. He could only blame his sudden lapse in consciousness on the withdrawal. But the kiss? That was all on Michael.

_ He_ initiated the kiss when there are probably a hundred other usable methods of getting someone's attention. If Michael chose to kiss Alex, then maybe there was still hope that Alex's plan could work. That he could use Michael as a distraction to aide him in this bitch of a detox. Alex had imagined what kissing Michael would be like ever since he got the damn idea in the first place. He'd taken notice of Michael's soft, silky lips since he first laid eyes on him, but...shit. That kiss sent Alex to a level beyond imagination. A euphoria so powerful, he discovered himself reeling with dizziness.

"So...that was, um...," Michael trailed off. He cleared his throat with an awkwardness that, surprisingly, seemed unfitting to them both. They should have felt uncomfortable, but they didn't. An act of raw passion that once seemed impossible to ever happen between them felt natural. Maybe that was why it was awkward, because it actually _wasn't_.

"Yeah, that was definitely...," Alex scrambled for the right words. He scratched his head as he realized that he was still parched on top of Michael.

"Oh, right. Sorry," he lamely mumbled as he quickly got to his feet. His mouth gave a twitch as he offered a hand to help Michael up. He wasn't quite sure about which drug his mouth twitched for: Veratril or Michael.

Alex's hand held Michael's a moment longer than it should have. Michael's eyes were filled with lust and craving as they locked with Alex's. The chanting and grunting beneath them died down as the snap of a neck ended the fight. Michael's eyes tore from Alex's as he heard his name over the intercom. He had a visitor. He figured it must be Lincoln, since the last contact they had with each other was as they were running from the police, right before they split up.

"I guess I, uh, have to go see my visitor. So...," he gestured towards the gate. Alex hesitantly moved aside and tilted his head downward.

"Yeah, of course." Michael cast his eyes the ground and stepped forward. Alex shot his arm out to the wall, blocking Michael.

"Maybe you can, you know, come see me when you're done." Alex's voice felt small, but the Company trained him to take command in any given situation. So what came out was strong and assertive. Michael shivered at Alex's controlling tone.

He tried to ignore the goosebumps on his arms as he nonchalantly replied with, "Yeah, maybe." With that, he gently pushed Alex aside and made his way toward the gate.

Alex shakily ran his hands through his disheveled hair. His lips were glowing and his eyes were hunger-ridden. His clothes were now soaked with twice the amount of sweat. He heart was beating a mile a minute. His brain had his kiss with Michael on replay and there was no stop button. He sighed as he turned and started toward his cell. He was so fucked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello everyone! Thank you SO MUCH for all the reviews I've gotten. You all don't know how much reviews mean to me :) First off, sorry this chapter came a bit late. And I'll warn you now, there really isn't Alex/Michael interaction. In fact, Alex isn't _actually_ in this chapter. But he's mentioned a lot, and Michael's clearly thinking about him, and that's the important part. The point of this chapter was to advance the plot where it needs to go. There will be Alex/Michael interaction in the next chapter, I promise :)**

Michael groaned inwardly as the gate re-opened for his return to Sona's courtyard. Visitation gave prisoners no form of privacy or comfort, but it was better than nothing. The guards clutched their weapons like they were second skins. Part of who they were. Their guns became their identity around Sona. They gave ordinary men an unstable power. Michael figured they were manipulated by their weapons long ago. Once human beings just searching for a way to feed their families; now merciless dictators just searching for a target to shoot.

They gave Michael a forceful shove through the gate before easing off their weapons as it closed. Michael glanced around him. Everything appeared just as it always had. Lechero overlooking the courtyard with a smug smile plastered on his face. T-Bag obediently standing two feet behind him, at his immediate command and disposal. Bellick limping toward his cell, physically and mentally oppressed. Michael had already seized the opportunity to observe each prisoner around him, so any change to his surroundings wouldn't go unnoticed. Sona was a dangerous place to find oneself unguarded. As Michael slowly crossed the courtyard, his mind returned to his visitation with Lincoln.

_ "I'm gonna get you outta here, Michael."_

_ "Linc, you don't have to worry about -"_

_ "I do. You risked everything for me and...and I can't let this happen. I can't let you stay here. Just not here, man. Look at this place. You're gonna get killed."_

_ "I'll watch my back."_

_ "You shouldn't have to. And you won't for much longer. I found a lawyer who's looking into your case. He should at least be able to get you transferred to another prison. A safe one."_

_ "Safe and prison in the same sentence? Quite the juxtaposition."_

_ "Anything's safer than this."_

Michael soon got lost in his head as Lincoln's words echoed loudly. His brother had never actually been inside Sona, but his assumption of its conditions weren't incorrect. It wasn't anywhere near safe. Fox River may not have been a stroll through the park, but at least it had given Michael the protection of cell bars throughout the night. The once-burdensome, yet now-appreciated watchful eyes of CO's. Michael wasn't going to allow himself false hope of getting out of here any time soon, though. In fact, the guilt of how many lives were lost and ruined because of his actions screamed at him to let himself rot inside Sona forever. Maybe that wouldn't be so bad though, what with having Alex for company.

Michael immediately shook that thought away as a basketball collided with his knee. He silently thanked the prisoner in possession of that basketball for intruding on thoughts that never should have entered his mind in the first place. Sona not being a complete place of torment because Alex suddenly made it slightly easier to bear? Because Michael couldn't last longer than five minutes without picturing Alex and the exhilarating kiss they shared? Seriously, what the hell?

"Hey, are you alright?" Michael scrunched his eyebrows in confusion as a young boy stared back at him.

"Sorry. Uh, yeah. I'm fine."

"Oh, okay. I'm sorry I hit you with my ball. I guess I wasn't paying enough attention. Kind of looked like you weren't either, though."

The kid gave a small smile as his fingers gently grazed the cross around his neck. His red jersey swallowed his small figure, and the sweat in his hair forced his black curls to stick to his forehead. He couldn't have been more than 16 years old. That fact couldn't help but strike a chord in Michael. This place wasn't even suitable for adults, so it most certainly wasn't suitable for teenagers.

"I'm McGrady, by the way," he stated as he offered his hand to Michael. Even in Sona, the kid still managed to sustain a genuine charisma and charm.

"Michael," he replied with as he shook McGrady's hand. "It's nice to meet you." Michael made a movement to walk away, but got nowhere as McGrady quickly picked up his basketball and looked at Michael.

"Do you wanna play?"

His eyes expressed hope. While Michael did sympathize with him, there was no chance he was going to toss a ball through a hoop while he fought to make ends meet in prison and desperately contemplated his unwinding feelings for Alex. Alex and his subtle, yet built physique. His greasy hair that still made anyone else's hair fail in comparison. His well-defined jaw and thin, succulent lips. His staggering blue eyes that made Michael melt with fascination...

"Hello? Earth to Michael?" Michael's head snapped back to McGrady. "You were in a trance again. Just like before when I hit you with the ball. Is that just a thing that Americans do? 'Cause I've never picked up on it before."

Michael would have taken that for sarcasm had it not been for McGrady's wide eyes and sincerity. He spaced out for the second time that day because of his creepy infatuation with Alex. He was so fucked.

"No, sorry. I don't, uh -" Michael scrambled for words that made sense of any kind. McGrady smiled.

"It's okay, don't worry about it." Michael gave a small smile back. They stood where they were for a few seconds before Michael gave a small nod and stepped away. He made it three feet before McGrady spoke again, this time a little louder to cover the distance.

"You seem like the type to get in your head a lot." Michael turned and faced McGrady.

"I'm sorry?"

"You just, uh, seem like you get lost in your head a lot, you know? Like you're one of those really smart guys who has so many thoughts running through him that sometimes he just blanks."

Michael didn't know this kid, and he definitely didn't know Michael, but he seemed to pick up on a characteristic that Michael, to his great dismay, possessed. Michael did get lost in his head a lot. Not because he was smart, he thought, but because he didn't know when to stop. He sometimes gets so deep in his thoughts that he reaches a point where he's trapped in them. Due to his recent, never-ending thoughts about Alex, he was in his head deeper than he had ever been before.

McGrady took the silence as encouragement to keep talking. "I'm not very smart, so I've never been like that. But I get how that could happen here. The daily routine where we do nothing but sit around in the Panama heat, the loneliness...I can see how that makes sense."

Michael scratched the back of his head before speaking up. "Look, McGrady -"

"Sona isn't a place for trust," McGrady interrupted. "I don't trust you because I don't know you. But I could use someone to talk to from time to time, and you seem like you could too. And you don't seem that bad. Having someone to talk to just helps pass the time, you know? It's a good distraction."

Michael's head shot up. McGrady seemed like a good kid, and Michael wouldn't mind having an ally in Sona. But that one word that came out of McGrady's mouth caught Michael's heated attention. Distraction.

While inmates like McGrady were desperate for a friendship, or even less than a friendship, to help distract their thoughts about the miserable situation they were in, Michael already had a distraction waiting for him. A strong, alluring (albeit sometimes crazy) man offered Michael the chance to escape his mind and to escape this hell when they became too overwhelming. Michael was overwhelmed, to say the least. And he couldn't stop thinking about Alex. Before he knew it, his decision was made.

"I'll keep that in mind. Nice talking to you, McGrady." With that, Michael scampered away from McGrady and ran his hands over his head as his eyes bulged out of his face. He was a mess and he knew it, but he couldn't delay the inevitable any longer.

He had to see Alex.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello! I bet these little rants at the beginning of each chapter are becoming a nuisance, so I'll try to make this brief! I didn't really get any feedback for the last chapter, which was unusual only because you guys have been so great about reviewing. Just let me know if there's anything you didn't/don't like so I can evaluate the situation and try to improve on it. I want this to be as enjoyable for you as it is for me! Plus, I just simply love hearing what others think about my take on these wonderful characters and their relationship. So here we are, chapter five :) **

_Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out._

Alex inhaled sharply as his attempt at remaining calm left as quickly as it came. His hands tightly grasped the bars of his cell window as he held onto them for dear life. With a full head twitch and a tight gulp, his hands loosened a little as he looked out the window. Sona guards winding down as the sun faded, yet still possessing an attentive alert.

Alex allowed his sweaty forehead to rest against the bars as his eyes slowly closed. He managed a weak smile as he imagined Michael's being; as he pretended Michael were there with him. Contentment found his lips as they received a tender, yet passionate kiss. Relaxation found his muscles as his body molded into Michael's. Stability found his hands as his fingers traced the other body's sophisticated design...

Alex's eyes quickly shot open. Michael wasn't there, and he was alone. His lips returned to their pressed line. His muscles returned to their strained intensity. His hands returned to their unsettled jitter. It was in this desperate moment of quietness and lonesomeness that Alex realized how much he needed Michael. Not wanted, _needed._

He couldn't quite pinpoint when exactly it had all changed. Maybe it was when they kissed. The hot, powerful kiss that left Alex aching for more. Maybe it was when Alex spotted Michael across the courtyard. The eye contact and surreal connection they seemed to make after merely staring at each other. Or maybe...maybe it was when Alex first laid eyes on Michael. It didn't take long for Alex to dive into a deep grave of obsession. He hadn't even met him when the obsession first started, and he spent weeks thinking about _nothing _except Michael. Maybe Alex has needed Michael for a long time, and he's only just now realizing it.

Alex's knees trembled as another short wave of shakes passed through him. He evened his breathing and regained his balance as he glanced down at his shirt. Soon enough, it would be decaying in sweat and stench. Mustering up enough energy, he slowly peeled his shirt off and lazily tossed it to the ground. While exposing skin in a place like this didn't quite appeal to Alex, he found himself unable to care. He felt disgusting and overheated and was at the peak of his withdrawal.

He did miss his family, but they were better off without him in their lives. In the end, he could never measure up. He was never the husband he wished to be, the father he wished to be, or even the man he wished to be. He couldn't blame Michael for wanting nothing to do with him.

_I really fucking hate my life_, Alex thought as he stepped away from the window and to the center of the cell. A disconnected laugh tumbled out of his mouth as he ran his hands through his hair.

"Would you like to share the joke with the rest of the class? I haven't heard a good one in awhile." Alex jumped a little as he looked up to see Michael standing before him. His eyes were large and red, and he gave a few pants as if he'd been in a hurry to get here. Strange...at least it was real Michael instead of imaginary Michael.

After Michael's epiphany with McGrady, he had set off straight to Alex's cell. He didn't rush as to attract attention...but maybe he overdid it a little. Feeling slightly embarassed, he tried to cover it up with a calculative smirk. That smirk left his expression as he eyed Alex's now shirtless body. The muscles weren't overbearing, but they were there. Alex had a body that appeared average at a distance or underneath a suit, but when stripped to its core, was stunning.

Alex fought against the body spasm that threatened to erupt again. He shook it off by taking a step toward Michael and forcing a smile. It was just barely forced, though. Seeing Michael for the first time since the kiss was definitely uplifting.

"It wasn't a joke. More of a feeble attempt to find humor in a dark situation."

Michael tore his eyes away from Alex's beautifully sculpted upper body as he heard the distance in Alex's voice. Alex was cracking. Michael knew the detox could push Alex over the edge and it pained him to see Alex so...lost. Michael had always felt lost, though. So maybe agreeing to Alex's proposition could be good for the both of them. It would only last until Alex was through the hard part, of course. Michael might be a broken man, but he wasn't expecting to be fixed. Especially by a man who he should hate, not lust after.

"So how was your visitation? Was it your brother who came to see you?" Michael snapped out of his thoughts as he realized Alex was staring intensely at him.

"Or maybe it was Sara Tancredi?" Alex's voice seemed to come undone at that. A spark of anger erupted in the pit of his stomach. His expression remained void of emotion, however. He made sure not to give anything away. Michael seemed to read him almost as well as he had learned to read Michael, so he was careful about how he showed his feelings.

Michael winced at the mention of Sara's name. It had been awhile since he'd seen her. Or thought of her, for that matter. He instantly felt guilty.

"It was my brother. He's uh...he's trying to get me out of Sona the legal way." He darted his eyes to Alex's, expecting an entertained expression full of obvious mock. Alex's expression didn't change. Michael inwardly smiled at that.

"Ah. I can't know how that will turn out, but at least you have someone who gives a damn. I hope it all works out for you." While he couldn't have been more sincere, the words didn't quite meet his eyes. He ungracefully made his way back to the window, using the wall as support. The dim light from the sun highlighted the smooth curves of Alex's bare back.

To hell with it. Michael was done with this with game. He came here for Alex, and Alex was what he was going to get. He took a few steps forward until he was three inches from Alex. The other man turned around, head hanging low due to the decreasing energy left inside him.

"You need me," Michael spelled out with growing confidence. "I see that now. As you stated, we don't like each other. You killed my father and nearly ruined me and brother's lives, and I'm the reason you're in here." While it was all true, it sounded like Michael was trying to remind himself of the reasons they should hate each other. To _convince _himself that he's not growing more fond of Alex as each minute of the day passes by.

"But this isn't going to provide either of us with anything more than a distraction. We'll limit interaction with each other outside of the arrangement to a minimum, or not talk at all if that's your preference. There will be no feelings, but that's a given."

Had it not been for Alex's supreme self-control, his mouth would be hanging open. He cleared his throat and awkwardly ran a hand over his chest, momentarily forgetting that he didn't have a shirt on.

"Sorry, feelings? I'm not sure I follow."

"Feelings, Alex. You know, uh, no developing any sort of caring feelings for the other person." The thin thread of confidence Michael had before was now chopped into little pieces.

"Wait, you're agreeing to this? You want us to..., -" Alex's uncertain sentence was cut short by Michael's hand being pressed against his mouth. Michael drew his face so close that the only barrier between the two was Michael's hand.

"I want us to survive this place any way we can. You're no good if you're dead. You asked me for help, and I'm giving it to you."

Alex shuddered underneath Michael's hand. Michael's sudden dominance over the situation was attractive, he wasn't going to deny it. Alex fought back the huge grin that threatened to spread out under Michael's hand. This was what Alex had been wanting since he arrived in Sona. He wanted Michael, and he was about to have him. In an enemies-with-benefits kind of way, but that was alright. Alex placed his hand on top of Michael's and carefully guided it away from his face.

"Minimal interaction and no feelings. Sounds like we have a deal," Alex agreed as he fingers absently stroked Michael's. Michael quickly glanced down at the pair of hands. Realizing what he was doing, he yanked his hand behind his back and cast his eyes down. Coming to another realization, he was _still fucking shirtless._

Michael didn't seem to mind it, though, as his eyes hungrily devoured Alex's chest. Neither man was completely sure about this decision they were making, but in this moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the two of them. They both wanted, craved, needed.

Burying his feelings of regret he knew he would get blasted with the next day, Michael grinned. "Sounds like we do."

That was all Alex needed as he caved in and collided Michael's mouth with his own.


	6. Chapter 6

**I know I sound repetitive, but thanks again for all your reviews. They mean a lot! :)**

It started out gentle. The teasing flicker of Alex's tongue, secretly begging for permission. Michael's soft, yet passionate grasp on Alex's head, pushing the kiss deeper. With uncharacteristic tenderness, Alex guided them to the bed. He slowly began to peel Michael's shirt off as Michael's back graced the mattress. Alex softly urged Michael to arch his back, which would strip away the barrier of cloth. Michael hesitated before quickly composing himself and lifting his back off the bed. Had Michael been with anyone else, his moment of reluctance would have went unnoticed. But he wasn't underneath just anyone.

He was underneath Alexander Mahone.

Closely observing a person's movement, treating his or her expressions and gestures like pages of a book, used to be part of Alex's everyday life. He may no longer be an FBI agent, but he would always be an observer.

"Something wrong?" Alex's hands, still lightly grasping Michael's shirt, froze with his icy tone. His eyes darkened – an act that corresponded with the shadowing sky. Michael caught a glimpse of Alex's intense gaze as the outside light offered one last illumination.

And then they found themselves alone together in the darkness. Alex frozen atop Michael's body. Michael sweating anxiously, visibly chasing the right words that he couldn't seem to catch. Michael uncomfortably scratched his head and released a few heavy breaths.

"No, I, no. Nothing's wrong. It's just...I'm, I can't...It's not like I've..." Michael paused amidst his sorry attempt at explaining his actions, hoping Alex would miraculously catch on. Alex scrunched his eyebrows. He may be good, but he's not that good. Michael sighed.

"I've never been with a man before," he spat out. "Not intimately. This is just, this is new for me. It may take me a little while to get used to it." Alex's amused 'ah' was nonexistent to Michael's ears, but it didn't need to be said.

"I've never been with a man, either. But I would hardly consider this 'intimate'," Alex placatingly reasoned. He gave a crafty smirk before easing his face down to Michael's. His teeth lightly scraped Michael's ear before he whispered, "I wouldn't stress over it, Michael. Gender won't be an issue when it comes down to what I plan on doing to you."

Michael forced his eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath. He bit his tongue as it fought the urge to sexually assault Alex's body. Michael had always been, more or less, an introverted kid. Always working alone on projects, sitting alone during lunchtime, playing alone during recess. His interaction with others maintained a low track record. No one had ever really shown interest in him, so he adapted to not being interested in others. There was Sara, of course. The woman who gave Michael the time of day that he never deserved. But even with her, he never felt a pulsing sexual desire.

He had never possessed that primal instinct that every other man on the planet had. It was for this basic reason that Michael was really taken by surprise when he found himself quivering underneath Alex's hold. He was undoubtedly nervous due to his inexperience with _either_ gender. The guilt that never seems to leave Michael threatened an unholy amount of emotional self-destruction. But Michael couldn't fight the pure excitement he felt. The rush of entering such a dangerous territory with an even more dangerous man. A dangerous, mad, wonderful man. Michael felt something he hadn't felt in awhile, even if it was only reminiscent of what it really should be. He felt happiness.

As if the gods of irony sensed Michael's elation, Alex jumped off of Michael and ungracefully stumbled off the mattress. He clutched his stomach as his hands shook uncontrollably. Michael's mouth slightly hung open as he bolted upright. He made a move to get up, but Alex gestured for him to stay still. Alex felt as though he were repeatedly being stabbed with wooden spears, but he was nobody's damsel.

The detox hurricane subsided, and after a few labored breaths, Alex straightened his back and glanced over at Michael. He wasn't completely comprehending what he was going through with this withdrawal, or how he felt, or anything in his life at all. But Michael seemed to understand. The calm expression he wore as he matched Alex's stare stood with acceptance and awareness.

Suddenly, Alex knew something about all this was wrong. The agreement, the absurd, half-assed agreement, called for Alex and Michael to sustain a purely physical relationship until the detox was over. There shouldn't be courtesy of comfort or light kisses or conversation. Nothing about this was how it should be.

Without warning, Alex dashed to the bed and pinned Michael down. A bewildered 'hmph' was heard before Alex roughly pulled Michael into a kiss. The embrace was nothing like the last one. Alex didn't wait for permission as his tongue forcefully entered Michael's mouth. Michael's grasp wasn't lustfully on Alex's head, but rather tightly on the mattress for support. Using his strength, Michael just barely pried himself away from Alex to catch his breath.

Alex wasted no time as he possessively grabbed the back of Michael's neck and pulled him into another violent kiss. His fingernails clawed against Michael hips, resulting in a small patch of blood. When Alex pulled away for air, Michael took the opportunity to use his voice.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"What the hell am I doing? I'm doing what I agreed to do, what are you doing?" His tone had noticeably changed. It was more aggressive, sharp, menacing.

"We didn't agree to suffocate each other," Michael snapped. "Unless killing me was your plan from the beginning. Which, drawing from my history of knowing you, wouldn't surprise me."

Alex let out a cold snicker and lightly shook his head. He gave a calculating look before slowly moving closer to Michael. The intimidation would be enough for even the most robust prisoner in Sona to run like hell, but Michael didn't move a muscle. Alex was a wild card. He was unpredictable, especially when without his pills. Michael wasn't afraid of him, though. He was unsure if he could ever be straightforwardly afraid of him.

Alex licked his lips and pressed them against Michael's neck. Michael gasped as Alex gave a small bite.

"You have always been a mystery to me, Michael. A mystery that I dedicated weeks of my life to. A mystery I allowed overpower me until the day I finally solved it." Alex bit a little harder, causing Michael's body to jump in pain. Alex dominantly placed a hand low on Michael's hipbone, constricting his movement. Alex spoke again in a hushed tone.

"And now that I've solved you, Michael, I can finally put you to rest. I know how you think. Any advantage you may think you get, I'll always be one step ahead." Michael struggled against Alex's grasp and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Alex's lips. The kiss was deliberate, condescending.

"You are nothing more than an object to me. A convenient release from my withdrawal. What we have, right here, between us, is nothing more than a means to an end. So why don't we skip tying each other's shoes and holding hands when crossing the street and do what we signed on for. Does that sound good to you, Michael?"

Michael clenched his jaw as he shoved Alex's hand off his hip, as much as he admittedly liked having it there. Michael used his growing anger and annoyance to flip Alex down on the bed and straddle his waist. Alex raised his eyebrows.

"Sounds perfect, Alex. I'm glad you cleared that up for me. Now let's get to it so I can get the hell out of here." Michael bent down and bit Alex's ear, being sure to show no consideration.

Alex began working at Michael's shirt. As Michael was quick to pull it off, Alex mentally reminded himself that this is how it needed to be. That no matter how much he lied to himself about his feelings toward Michael, nothing about this would change. It couldn't.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: **The wait for this chapter was extra long, I know. To make up for it, though, I made the chapter itself extra long as well :) Alex's withdrawal has been a central focus of the story so far, and I feel that it's time for it to be nearing its end, so this is probably the last chapter that will center around that.

**Chapter warnings: **Mention of sexual abuse

What happened after their first time together came as a surprise to both of them. Michael's next five days typically consisted of chatting with McGrady (only once has he been persuaded into playing basketball, and Michael's definition of "play" was equivalent to tossing the ball through the hoop three times and being done with it); being sexually harassed by T-Bag (the tone had been dialed down now that the majority of T-Bag's time was spent at the dirty feet of King Lechero, but that didn't make Michael any less uncomfortable); and mastering the perfect blend of brood sessions and pretty-boy-angst (the description in Alex's head, anyway).

The main consistency in Michael's routine, however, was Alex. He avoided eye contact and conversation during the day (minimal interaction, just as the deal called for). And once the sun was down, he would find himself in Alex's cell, patiently waiting for Alex's shakes to pass by. Sometimes they would end the day in Michael's cell, but Alex rarely left his cell nowadays unless it was absolutely necessary. For a reason he couldn't grasp, it often pained Michael to sit back and watch Alex's body jerk every which way for minutes on end and not offer support. Alex had made it pretty clear that he didn't want to be comforted by Michael in any fashion besides their deal, though. So Michael never said a word. They would do the deed, and Michael would leave for his cell. And that would be the end of it.

Alex's five days were a little different than Michael's. They consisted of crouching on his cell's dirty, hard floor, back against the wall, helplessly caught in tides of tremor. His mind ached, so meaningful thoughts would come and go. When they came, he would take those opportunities to think about his son. How much he missed him, yet how better off Cam was without him. He would think about Pam, and how guilty he felt for leading her to believe that he was going to change.

But most of the time he would think about Michael. The five minutes they would spend together each night once all of Sona was either asleep or too caught up in itself to take notice of their activity. It was unkind, rough. It was exactly what they agreed to; exactly what Alex said he wanted. Within those unforgiving five minutes, though, sometimes a moment of forbidden truth would slip past them.

The way Alex would softly trace Michael's tattoo, looking directly into his eyes as he did so, because the lines were already imprinted in his brain. Or the way Michael would bite his lip as he experienced his point of pleasure, almost as if he were biting back Alex's name. Or the way their eyes would somehow lock, holding a gaze so full of unspoken wishes, it sometimes left a pang in Alex's heart. Neither of them would allow these moments to last for very long, though. They would silently get dressed, Michael would leave, and Alex's temporary buzz would be replaced with agony.

Then the sixth day came, and it was different than the first five. The sixth day was when the lines became blurred, and terms of the arrangement faded.

Alex figured it was about 5 or 6 o'clock (though how the hell should he know? Time in Sona had the passing speed of a tortoise walking through quicksand). He had only ventured out of his cell two times, but he took the liberty to keep an eye on Michael and make himself aware that Michael was in visitation. Not that he cared where Michael was or if Michael was alright. Michael had been keeping good on his end of the deal and distracting Alex from his withdrawal. That was the only reason he gave two shits about Michael at all. It was definitely the only reason. Why else would he care?

Alex's shoulder met the wall as the weight of his dinner was becoming unbearable for his wobbly hands. He sighed. It was one thing for drug withdrawal to expectantly weaken one's physical strength, but this was just pathetic. He inelegantly made it three more steps before suddenly reaching for support from the wall. His hand attempted and failed to find anything other than air as he realized he was at a cell entrance. His body fumbled as he barely managed to keep himself up, but the same could not be said for his food as it crashed to the floor.

Another sigh. His life was just laughable at this point.

He grunted in pain as he bent down to pick up his dinner. Considering that Alex was pretty sure the food here would be the thing to kill him if the withdrawal didn't beat it to the punch, he sure as hell wasn't going to eat it now. But if the prisoner who belonged to this cell came back to find a big pile of filth right in front of the place he sleeps, well...Alex wasn't in any state to receive a chicken foot.

Alex gathered most of his dinner together and made a move to stand up before he noticed a little piece of it had slithered into the cell, right underneath the mattress inside it. Alex rolled his eyes and awkwardly glanced around as he rose to his feet. When he was sure no one was looking, he darted into the cell and reached under the bed as he bent down. His eyes narrowed as he noticed something taped underneath the mattress.

Heroin.

Still clutching the food in one hand, he used the other to carefully pry the drugs off the bed. His eyes glazed over in temptation as he considered his next move. The only drug Alex had ever taken was the one that caused him to go through this damn detox. If he were out in the real world, away from the added stress of his environment, he wouldn't give heroin a second glance. But he was inside Sona, where every man was for himself and did whatever he could to keep his remaining sanity.

"Hey, Alex." Alex jumped as he looked up from the drugs in his hands to meet the gaze of swollen eyes. One bruised with purple and black, the other three-quarters closed. Alex scrunched the drugs in his hand and balled it into a tight fist as his arm dropped to his side.

"What do you want, Brad?"

"I was just passin' by and saw you and...," Bellick's gaze shifted downward as he spoke, not wanting to oppress himself further by revealing that he could use someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't rape him if he so much as blinked. "What are you doin' in Rafael's cell, anyways?"

Alex's eyebrows slightly lifted. "Rafael?"

"Yeah, Rafael. The big tattooed guy with the ponytail and hair that doesn't match his mustache. He ain't no one to mess around with. He'll kill ya if he sees that you're foolin' around in his cell."

Annoyed, Alex pressed his lips into a thin line. "I have no idea who you're talking about and frankly, I don't care. Now if you'd please get the hell out of my way, I will be happy to -" Alex's eyes widened as realization dawned on him. Rafael was the prisoner who Alex had to refrain himself from killing. If Alex didn't have the strength of a five-year-old girl at the moment, he could take him down without so much as sweating. Rafael wasn't one to take on when weak, though, and if memory served Alex correctly, Rafael still held a grudge against him.

_"Next time will end badly for you." Alex made his way over to where Michael had just been standing, unknowingly toward T-Bag instead, as he heard a muffled hiss. A croak so quiet he wouldn't have heard it had it not been for his FBI training._

_ "Next time there won't be nothin' left of you. I ain't done with you."_

Alex fought against shaking his head and laughing. What a dimwit. "I appreciate the concern, Brad, but I'm not worried."

Bellick shifted in his place. "Yeah, I know you think you can take care of yourself and all that. I thought I could too, but...," he blinked rapidly and wiped his eyes. Alex rolled his eyes. "But the guys in here are different than the ones in Fox River. They're brutal."

Alex replied with a disinterested tone. "Perhaps you didn't notice the brutality of Fox River's prisoners because you were on the other side of the gate." His gave a condescending smirk.

Bellick snorted. "Yeah, maybe. Damn no-good cons. The only reason I'm in this hell-hole is 'cause of Scofield, ya know."

"Join the club," Alex deadpanned.

"Guess it's more Bagwell's fault, but Scofield still ran away when I got shot and left me to-" his sentence came to a dead end as he turned his head to face the hallway. A wave of fear overtook his expression as he backed away from the cell.

Alex spoke with amused calmness. "Something the matter, Brad?"

"Rafael's back!" he quietly exclaimed. "And his goons too. I'm gettin' the hell outta here. You should do the same."

Bellick quickly limped away as Alex stood still. He silently cursed himself as he remembered the drugs he still had in his hand.

"Well, look at what we got here, fellas." Alex felt dumbstruck as he took in the sight before him. It had only been a week since he had last seen Rafael, but the man had earned himself not drastically, yet still noticeably, larger muscles. The two men on either side of him had matching sets of muscles and wife-beaters. Rafael took a step toward Alex and smiled, revealing crooked, yellow teeth.

"Don't think I could ever forget a face like this." Alex kept his arms planted firmly against his sides as he took a step back.

"I dropped my dinner outside your cell and a piece of it tumbled by your bed. I picked it up, and now I'm on my way out," Alex stated as he held out the piece of food for Rafael to see. Alex kept his voice calm and assertive. The second he allows his nerves to show is the second he's as good as dead. Rafael and his men weren't aware of Alex's current weak state and they didn't have to be.

"Oh, I don't think so, pretty boy. I think you need a good lesson after what happened last time we crossed paths."

The food fell to the floor as Rafael shoved Alex against the cell wall. The other two prisoners stalked to Rafael's side. Alex kicked Rafael's kneecap (go for the kneecap, Alex always told himself while fighting someone else), which earned a painful yelp from Rafael. Alex rushed to exit the cell, only to be blocked off by Rafael's men. The larger of the two backhanded Alex, causing him to stumble back and bump into Rafael.

"You stupid piece of shit, you're dead!" Rafael screamed as he pulled out a shiv.

Just as Alex finally allowed the panic to set in, one of the prisoners was sent flying down to the ground. Michael shook the pain away from his fist as he locked eyes with a stunned Alex. All eyes were on Michael, and Alex took the opportunity, and his last ounce of energy, to collide his fist with the other Sona prisoner. He felt the heroin he was still holding as Alex sent him tumbling down. Throwing the punch made Alex all but keel over, but he remained vertical as it was enough to knock the guy out. Rafael paid no attention to him as he pushed past Alex and held his shiv to Michael's throat.

"Who the hell are you?" Rafael spat out. Michael made no move to reply so Rafael continued. "I've seen you around with pretty boy over there, ya know. You ain't so bad lookin' yourself," he moved the shiv slowly down Michael's chest. "Maybe once I'm done with your boyfriend, we can work somethin' out." The shiv rested at the top of Michael's jeans.

"How about you let me deal with my 'boyfriend'-," Michael inwardly smirked at that term. He kind of liked it. "-and you can deal with your busted knee."

"My buste-?" Rafael's perplexed utterance was cut off as Michael kicked the kneecap that Alex had just kicked moments ago, only with triple the force that Alex had. Rafael yelled out as he dropped to his side. All of Alex's weight was slumped against the wall across from Rafael as he weakly looked up to Michael.

"Come on, Alex! We have to get out of here," Michael blasted as he carefully yet hurriedly grabbed Alex's arm. Alex clutched his stomach and crumbled under Michael's hold.

"Michael, I can't. I, oh God-" his head dropped in pain, "-I can't." Rafael squirmed on the floor, slowly regaining his strength. The other two prisoners were slowly beginning to stand, as well. Michael gently placed his hands on either side of Alex's head as he planted a kiss on Alex's lips. The kiss was supportive, easy. Alex stopped panting as Michael pulled away.

"I'll help you, it's okay. We have to go."

"Michael, what are you...what are you doing?" Alex whispered as Michael took his hands and started tugging at them. Alex kept one hand in a tight fist, not wanting to shamefully expose the drugs he had stolen. Whether he would take those drugs was still the question, but having Michael here with him helped ease the knot in his stomach that he hadn't even known was there.

"I can't hold up my end of the deal and distract you from your detox if there's no you to distract." He smiled. "Let's go." Michael slung Alex's arm around his shoulders and they quickly ran out of Rafael's cell.


End file.
